


The Games We Play

by melWinter



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Murder, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki progression to BAMF, Minor Character Death, Ragnarok, References to War and its consequences, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel), borrowing from Norse Mythology, brotherly love and more angst, odin needs parenting classes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melWinter/pseuds/melWinter
Summary: A wish has been made to the Norns.  One that must be granted.  Time and space has been folded to see it fulfilled, but such an act always has consequences.  History will be rewritten.  Previous events will be lost or molded into an entirely new shape.  A new villain will emerge on Earth, one who kills for sport and likes games.Will Odin believe in the power of a second chance?  Will Thor catch a clue?  Will Loki even agree to assist lesser beings?There will be humor as well as angst and plenty of opportunities for some to receive the slap upside the head they deserve.  The story begins just prior to the conclusion of the fight between the Avengers and the Chitauri but does not start on Midgard.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is not a short story, but I've written longer...  
> Don't copy to another site without permission.

Prologue

EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

“I wish…”

Words. 

They were just a sound produced by the speaker. A sound didn’t have to have meaning behind it. But the arrangement of those words translated to an intent.

“I wish…”

These particular words could be uttered by anyone with few results. Ah, but this speaker was special. The location where the words were being uttered even more special.

“I wish for…”

Time is not the straight path that mortals imagine it to be. It coils. It splinters. It can rewind with different outcomes. But it can only be changed in very specific conditions.

“I wish for my life to begin again...”

The figure speaking stood in front of an ornate fountain of white stone inlaid with fiery blue metal at the edge of the universe. A fountain carved of living rock, created by the Norns. But when most mortals say ‘Norns’ they think of the Norns of Fate. The ladies three who guide all of the living through the path of destiny that to them resembled a tapestry, weaving the golden thread of life and cutting it when that life ended so that the thread would join the pattern of the living realm. But those were not the only Norns that walked the living realm.

At the very beginning, when time was not recorded, there were as many Norns as there were stars in the sky. Each Norn was given a specific purpose, and with that purpose they were given a name and a set of powers tied to that name. Some names were bequeathed since the beginning: fire, water, air. But other names came later once the realms started to develop and mortals grew up: envy, lust, war.

After a certain length of time that stretched towards infinity, the Norns grew tired of the living. For they were infinite creatures that never changed and as they existed beyond mortals, never truly lived. They chose to fade from the living realm, to journey beyond to whatever was next. Only the Norns of Fate remained, to maintain life in this plain of existence. But prior to their departure, prior to the infinite loop of life being established, they created wonders.

Wonders like this fountain.

There were also instructions left behind with the Volur. For such a wonder is not found easily. A series of tests must be past, each more perilous than the previous. Failure was almost a guarantee with death a likely consequence. This figure was one of the few to have ever succeeded since the beginning, and the only one to succeed in this cycle.

One wish. For anything. The only limits were the imagination of the one speaking. For it was not just the words uttered that were analyzed. Thought. Intent. It was all a factor to ensure that the wish granted matched what was wanted. But an object, even one made by the Norns, can only store so much power. And the wish that was uttered on this day would start an unforeseen chain of events. It would call back home one of the Norns that had faded from the living realm who had the power to see the wish fulfilled.

The figure making the wish was female. She was a warrior, that much was obvious with the way she held herself and the armor she was clad in. She was facing the fountain, so many hopes and dreams swelling inside of her. She knew she had to speak with care. It wasn’t her strength but she would say the right thing this time.

She pulled in a slow breath, thought of her heart’s desire, and breathed the words that would change everything, “I wish for my life to begin again, this time bequeathed by the throne as his intended…” Then a flicker of thought passed through her. A disgruntled expression crossed her face as her mind shifted from the man that she loved to the man’s brother that loved to annoy her. Muttering under her breath, forgetting that all words had power here, “…and if he has to be a prince, that he be worthy.”

The words were spoken.

The conditions were set.

Time folded back over a thousand years to begin again.

Chapter 1

VANAHEIM

Et’ana Sigyn, the light elf queen of Alfheim, sat at the small outdoor table and stared at nothing in particular. Her deep blue eyes were distant and sad, her expression on her golden-hued face furrowed with grief. Her white-blond hair was immaculately groomed and pulled back to proudly display her pointed elven ears. Her soft gold gown was floor length and flowed loosely but the sleeves were tight. Unlike a courtier, she wore silver gauntlets over her wrists and forearms made of elven metal as well as an intricate armored bodice made of the same material. 

Her dining companion, a golden-haired Vanir priestess named Veilya with lighter blue eyes wore her hair loosely pulled back, the long strands hanging halfway to her waist. She wore a simple green dress over soft brown boots. She was also one of Sigyn’s closest friends, who looked over her expression with concern.

They were both occupying a private garden in Vanaheim, not very far from the temple which trained young seers in their particular discipline. For not all seers had the same type of gift. From the Volur to the priestess to the temple acolytes, they all had a purpose and they all needed training to fulfill that purpose.

Veilya’s own brow furrowed, her lighter blue eyes worried. “What is wrong?”

Sigyn sighed softly. “Nothing.”

The seer forced herself to grin. “If that is your expression now I would hate to see your face when something is wrong.”

The light elf didn’t return the gesture as she stated simply, “I miss him.”

The Vanir blinked before her confusion cleared. “Ah, your mystery lover.” Sigyn had never even hinted to the name of this unknown man. It was a man who made her friend happy so he met with Veilya’s approval. For a man to court a woman of Sigyn’s station, the Vanir assumed he was a dignitary or someone of high rank. “When is he due to return?”

Sigyn sighed again and glanced down at the hands clenched in her lap. “He has departed from this life.”

Shock raced across Veilya’s face. It had been several months since last she’d visited with her friend but none of their correspondence had even hinted to this. “I am so sorry for your loss, I knew not.”

“A seer who does not know something?” The tease was light yet muted.

Veilya responded defensively. “I am still in training.” Then it was her turn to sigh. “Nor are we omniscient.” Sometimes she wished that she was. If she were she could have known in advance of the accident that befell her parents and done something about it. At the very least she might have been able to make peace with them before they were gone. 

It would also make her task so much simpler. As a priestess it was her responsibility to advise those that came to her, or for her to act as a guide when the Norns prodded her to do so. Many assumed she knew everything when the truth couldn’t be more opposite. Her training had entailed not only in interpreting visions, but in discerning the subtlety of body language to give the best advice. After all, more often than not, those seeking advice know the answer, they just don’t have the confidence that it’s the right answer.

“I do not just mourn him…I mourn the life lost that we could have had together.” For that was how a light elf viewed time. They were an immortal race. The loss of a few centuries or longer would be foolish for one who didn’t age. It made more sense for them to mourn what never would be. The children they would never have. The journeys with one another they would never make. The freedom that would never be theirs to simply be together openly.

The Vanir nodded in understanding. “You were to be mated?”

A slight curl tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Once he had gathered his courage to ask me.” Although recently she had been considering broaching the subject.

“A bashful consort? For you?” She only asked because Sigyn was a strong-willed woman who had little patience for those that weren’t.

Sigyn shook her head slightly. “No, not bashful. He could be insecure at times but he was not a timid man.” She knew that had to do with his relative youth and the way that his family treated him. “You would have liked him.”

“Funny?” Veilya asked because it would have been a requirement for her to have liked him.

“When he wanted to be.” Her smile was just a little brighter, remembering those laughing green eyes. “…my brilliant mage with a tender heart.”

“Elven or Vanir?” Unlike most of her race, who could be a bit snobbish, Sigyn had never cared the species of those she called friend or lover.

Sigyn sighed once to exhale a regret. “Neither.” She drank a sip of water from her cup. “He was of Asgard.”

Both of Veilya’s eyes widened in surprise. “A brilliant seiđmađr on _Asgard_?” It was nearly unheard of for there to even be a seiđmađr on Asgard. A seidkona or woman of magic was much more likely. It was well known that such men were not respected among the AEsir and rarely did men with such abilities survive to adulthood. It wasn’t that they were killed outright. But most men were trained as warriors with sword and shield if they did not come from a family of a particular profession. Seiđmađr rarely survived a battle since they weren’t trained to use their best asset on the battleground.

Sigyn rolled her eyes. “They are not all brutish ogres.” Then murmuring to herself. “…just most of them.”

Suddenly Veilya knew who it was. There really was no one else that it could be. But she asked anyway. “Who?”

“Loki…”

Veilya gasped as a vision hit her all at once. Most times she was the one to initiate her sight, entering a semi-trance state to see the possibilities. It was a harsher experience when it was thrust upon her. 

_Prince Loki was hanging over the edge of Asgard’s broken BiFrost, holding onto a golden spear. The elder son, Prince Thor, also held onto it. The only one standing on the bridge was King Odin, who was holding Prince Thor’s feet._

_Veilya heard words whispered that jarred through her. Words from Asgard’s king. “No, Loki.”_

_She saw as the desperation on Loki’s face gave way to a morbid resolve. One by one his fingers lifted from their grip and not even Thor’s cries stopped him. Loki let go, and plunged into the Void of space. A place in-between space and time, where none who entered ever survived. Odin’s soft cry of denial was snatched away by the wind._

_Her sight moved suddenly, to a barren rock of coldness and darkness. Loki was there, alive. He looked almost like a distorted caricature of the finely groomed prince he had once been. He appeared half mad but defiant, his armor tarnished. All until a scepter with an embedded blue jewel was placed into his hands by shadowy figures. Then defiance was buried under control. A moment later he disappeared and the image of Midgard was in his place._

_Out of the corner of her eye a great tree grew from the ground. Veilya turned her attention as the tree shifted, some of the branches moving to caress Asgard. Two stars hovered over that realm. The larger of the two stars held two pictures within, one with a magpie trapped in a gilded cage of gold. The other picture was the magpie, dead. The smaller star glowed softly, the picture of a promising path held within._

_Other branches from the tree moved to touch other stars in the distance, both great and small. A branch moved in her own direction…_

“Veilya!”

She panted as she broke the surface to the present of this thread of life, Sigyn’s concerned cry grounding her. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on just breathing before a weak smile appeared. “I have been a seer my entire life yet the visions can still surprise me.” Not that she had known what she was for most of that life. She would see and know things, but she had always kept it to herself, certain she was going mad.

“What did--…I apologize. I am not meant to know.” Sigyn sat back now that she was assured Veilya was alright. She knew better than to ask about a vision.

“I can tell you.” Sigyn gave her a surprised look. The seer smiled tightly, feeling that it was safe for the Alfheim queen to know. “But you must tell no one else. Ever.”

Sigyn took such a vow seriously, knowing that sharing a vision to the wrong person could have dire consequences to everyone else. “I so vow.” She’d heard stories of those that had broken such rules, sharing what had been seen with the wrong people. Those that are told go out of their way to avoid one fate, and either suffer a worse fate instead, or tragic things happen to those around them. Instead of the imprisonment of a daughter, the death of a son occurs.

Veilya pulled in once final breath, her thoughts centered and her mind calm. “Yggdrasil has intervened.” 

“In what?” Sigyn asked.

“Your Loki is still alive.” Sigyn almost leapt to her feet, Veilya reaching out to snag her hand to stop her. “Wait--…”

“I must see him--…”

“Not yet.” Veilya shook her head and didn’t let go of Sigyn’s hand. “He is not on Asgard yet.” He was on Midgard, but she wouldn’t tell her friend that for the elf would surely go there and damn the consequences. Sigyn’s brow furrowed but she slowly sat back down, resolved to listen in full. “The World Tree did not intervene to keep him alive, he accomplished that on his own. The intervention is still to come.” For that was what the tree represented. The Norns of Fate were those that cared for the world tree, Yggdrasil, but the great cosmic tree gave life to the nine worlds of the universe, which in turn gave life to all of them. She reflected on the two stars hovering over Asgard, realizing they represented King Odin and Queen Frigga. “When he returns to Asgard, their king will have to consider what is to be done. Their queen is also a seer. She will be given a glimpse of what can be, a future of promise, but it will be up to her to change the king’s course.”

Sigyn had never been impressed with Odin. “What is he considering?”

The magpie represented Loki, with two decisions. “Imprisonment or death.” His image as a magpie meant something more, which Veilya would not say. If the king made either choice, it was how the AEsir king saw him…or how Loki believed Odin saw him.

Sigyn was even less impressed with such alternatives proposed. She gave a wordless growl, silently vowing to order a swift rescue if Odin went through with it.

Yet it didn’t make much sense to her. Only those that break the most fundamental of AEsir law or that are deemed beyond reform are given such limited options. She knew Loki. He was a troublemaker who had never fit in well in AEsir society. They held little respect for him, which was something that he craved. He was at times envious of his brother but he’d always been loyal to his family. There had been pranks that had gone awry but she couldn’t imagine him doing anything to earn such a sentencing. “What other option is there, if Odin has decided that either is necessary?” asked Sigyn.

Veilya reflected on the path of a promising future, and knew the answer was right as soon as she said it. “A second chance.”

Sigyn frowned heavily. Odin was not known for being lenient or forgiving. Quite the opposite. By many he was known as a tyrant who had only softened with age. Though these same people were not looking forward to the day when he passed the AEsir throne to his blood-thirsty eldest son. “Will he take it?”

“No one will know until he decides.” Veilya was certain of this answer.

The light elf felt nervous suddenly as she asked, “If he does not?”

Veilya shivered as she extended her sight once more. This time it was more of an impression that she saw than an actual vision. “I see an encroaching darkness as life gives way to death. I see a single survivor of that golden family…and it is not the son of Asgard that you love.”

The light elf huffed a sigh, debating how long her patience would last. “I will wait one month.”

A short woman entered the clearing to join them. “No, you will wait three.” Her hair was a vibrant red, the strands cut short to leap away from her head like a single flame. Her eyes were a mossy color, the lines of time carved deeply into her face. It was difficult to say which race she came from, for the Volur could be found outside of the nine realms. That she was here would make one assume Vanir, but that didn’t mean Yggdrasil hadn’t called her to journey here.

Veilya leapt to her feet before starting to bow. “Volva.”

The woman snorted and waved her off. “Do not stand on ceremony around me.” Her accent had a strange thickness to it. Sigyn was fairly confident this Volva was not Vanir.

Veilya paused in surprise, halfway through the motion. “But…you are of the Volur.”

The Volur were a very special group of seers chosen by Yggdrasil. All those with sight were granted such a gift by the Norns of Fate. But a select few were chosen by the World Tree, Yggdrasil, for a purpose. At the age of 7, Yggdrasil would see that the child was placed in the Volur’s care. By maturity, sacred vows were given to the Norns, surrendering their own free will to be a vessel for THEIR will. They were filled with knowledge, power, and assigned a purpose that they could not deviate from without breaking their vow. It was the Volur that guided entire realms on the correct path. They were also responsible to teach those with a seer’s gift who were not chosen to be Volur.

The Volva just rolled her eyes at the Vanir priestess. “I came into this life the same way everyone else did.”

Sigyn’s eyebrows both hiked up in surprise. “I know little of such things but I would not have thought one of the Volur would wish to be involved for a single person.”

The Volva sighed and occupied a third chair. “You have seen something.” Veilya wordlessly nodded. “A seer, the AEsir Queen, has also seen.” Her eyes turned distance as she allowed her gift to guide her and spoke softly, “Sometimes to change the course of the whole, one has to start with a single person.”

Veilya frowned. “Loki is not Asgard’s king.”

“No.”

Sigyn glanced at her friend. “But he is the son of that king.”

The Volva nodded. “Yes, and the brother of the future king. Yet we must also consider that the Norns act even beyond the AEsir.” 

Veilya frowned silently to herself. Her vision gave her the impression that it was Yggdrasil and not the Norns that had shown her a possibility. “Forgive me, Volva, but my impression was that the message was provided by blessed Yggdrasil.”

A small smile crossed the Volva’s expression for a moment, her eyes distant. “How were the Norns to represent themselves?” The seer seemed about the say something, then paused. What would be the most effective means to represent themselves than with an image of Yggdrasil? Then the Volva’s brow furrowed slightly. “That is not to mean that some of us were inspired by the Norns while others were granted a vision by blessed Yggdrasil. In either case, pertaining to the importance of what was shown, it matters not.” Now regarding Sigyn. “To perhaps answer your question, sometimes those chosen are not typical because they will have a greater impact. The right impact.” Then she gave Sigyn a pointed glance, who sat up just a little straighter.

Loki was in the perfect position, to not only impact Asgard due to his family ties there, but also to have influence on Alfheim because of his relationship with her.

Sigyn spoke slowly, not happy but not unhappy either. Impatient would be the best description. “One month or three is not that great an impact to an elf.”

The Volva nodded with approval. “I have been inspired to give advice to each of you.” She turned her attention to Sigyn first. “The elven way is not the Asgardian way. If you choose your heart’s desire, know that he would embrace that dynamic. You will be his greatest advantage.”

Sigyn considered the words before bowing her head respectfully. “Volva.”

The Volva now turned her attention to Veilya. “You have nearly completed your training. Our doors will always be open, should you delay this final year.” Veilya blinked in surprise. Training was essential for all of those that accepted a title of distinction. A seer was born with a gift. But a priestess received their training in using that gift from the Volur. She had already taken the vows before Yggdrasil and the Norns to never bear false witness of what the vision demanded. Once the final year was complete, she would be sent somewhere on Vanaheim where her skills would be needed. But the Volva wasn’t finished. “Also, even with that training complete, you will not be forced to remain here.”

Veilya sputtered in surprise a little before she objected. “But a priestess does not belong anywhere else.”

A slight smile crossed the Volva’s face. “The will of the Norns must be respected. Sometimes, that will creates a new precedent. Do not be afraid if your purpose molds into a new shape.” She glanced over both women before standing and leaving.

Sigyn sighed and slouched back in her seat, starting to look a tad annoyed but mostly filled with a longing she wouldn’t be able to alleviate. “Three months…” It was one thing to choose to not visit Asgard for a few months. It was quite another when told not to visit.

Veilya looked to her friend before shrugging lightly. “And it seems I am coming with you.”

***

ASGARD

Odin, the king of Asgard, gave the impression of a man deep in thought. He was obviously a warrior, but just as obviously past his prime. His hair and beard were white, dressed in golden armor and his golden spear put to one side. But he had already moved past the point of consideration, no longer debating. With regret he reflected on what had occurred to come to this moment in time. It had been nearly a year ago that all of this started.

His eldest son, Thor, had acted recklessly, attacking the Jötunns on their home world of Jötunheim. Actions that had rekindled an ancient war. In punishment, Odin had banished his son to Midgard until he regained his honor and his worth as the future king of Asgard. Then Loki had learned that he was not AEsir, that he had been rescued from Jötunheim as an infant and raised by Odin and Frigga as their youngest son. Before the situation could be dealt with Odin had collapsed in the Odin-sleep. Frigga had then entrusted the role of steward over the Asgardian throne to Loki until Odin awoke once more.

In an act of seeming madness, Loki had attacked Thor during his exile on Earth and almost killed him. His next act was to kill Laufey, who was his sire as well as the king of Jötunheim. Then Loki took it one step further, utilizing the BiFrost which was designed to allow the AEsir to travel to different realms and modifying it into a weapon against Jötunheim. The last plan to destroy Jötunheim had been foiled by Thor who had regained his powers and resorted to destroying the BiFrost to save Jötunheim. From the broken bridge Loki had let go and plunged to his assumed death in the depths of space.

But that assumption was in error. Loki had somehow survived and rather than returning home had made his way to Midgard, what the mortals call Earth. After sending Thor to Midgard Odin had sent his ravens Muninn and Huginn. The pair of birds were his spies, able to see and hear what occurred across the different worlds and report back to him. They had relayed to him Loki’s words to Thor. Words of his youngest’s bitterness and envy, trapped in his brother’s shadow. He was also aware of the initial damage done to Midgard, and of Loki’s intention to attempt to subjugate the mortal planet. Odin knew it was a gambit that would fail now that Thor was there to stop him. But his decision had been made. Loki had truly gone mad and he could not allow this path of destruction to continue. There was only one responsible recourse remaining.

“You intend to imprison him.”

He didn’t glance at his wife, Frigga, as he stood on the balcony and gazed out at Asgard. It was a sight that would provide him no comfort tonight. He didn’t make such a decision lightly, nor was it an easy choice for him to make. In spite of what anyone else believed he did love his son. But he had a duty as the king of Asgard. The welfare of the people came first. “A reasonable course of action given his crimes.” A decision he could live with as opposed to ordering Loki’s execution. For there wasn’t a third option. To strip Loki of his ability to use seidr was the only other method to render him controllable, but it would condemn his son to a slow, agonizing death. And Odin held a quiet hope that perhaps with time reason would return to Loki and he or Thor could find cause to free his son once more. 

She moved to his right but stayed a couple of steps away from the edge. “Those are the only two choices: imprisonment or death?”

After a moment Odin grunted but he still refused to turn. “I can offer nothing else that would not be construed as blatant favoritism.”

She slanted a glare at him, the argument an old one between them. “Because the Norns forbid you favor one son as you do the other.”

He whipped around at the mere suggestion. “Thor would never--…”

She cut him off, thinking of Thor’s attack that had rekindled war with Jötunheim. “Thor did, and you banished him. But with Loki--…”

His growl stopped her words. “The boy was gone for a year and this is the low that he stoops to when he resurfaces. To subjugate a mortal realm or destroy it if his gambit fails. He learned **nothing**.” It wasn’t the same and he refused to allow her to gloss over facts. Perhaps Thor’s actions against Jötunheim had a similarity to Loki’s attack against the same realm. But when Thor was banished he’d learned to value the lives of others. There was no similarity to Loki’s actions currently against the humans.

Frigga felt annoyed with her husband but she forced the reaction not to appear on her face. Instead she tried her best to sound reasonable. “Thor was granted kindness by the mortals, learning from them compassion. No one knows what Loki was subjected to. He is your son--…”

Rumbling in anger at the thought of the tarnish brought to the family honor. “Who dares to drag the family name into dishonor and treachery.”

Frigga shook her head. “Just as Thor did. You judge him too harshly.”

Odin felt his anger simmering just below the surface, growing angrier just thinking about it. “It is not his destiny to rule. Nor is it his place to question the order of things. He was to have greatness in a different manner yet he chooses to throw it away for petty ambition.” 

A future where Thor would be king and Loki would be trained to be Asgard’s Viceroy. Nor was such a title Odin had once intended to grant his younger son frivolous. It would be a great deal of power. It was also why Odin had waited as long as he had to crown Thor. There was more than a 100 calendar years that separated the brothers. It was tradition that if a Viceroy was chosen, it would be announced during the coronation. Thor’s initial coronation date had been just enough time for Loki to be old enough to be eligible for that training.

As a prince, Loki could command Asgard’s armies during a time of war but it was largely a title of privilege instead of power during times of peace. But as Viceroy, Loki could take command over the elders who advised the king and set the laws. He could even sit on the throne with the king’s permission, for his rank would be nearly as powerful.

Frigga felt a frown begin to form before she controlled it. “He believes he is not as important to you as his brother.” She knew that Odin loved Loki. But she also knew that in the order of importance her words were also true.

His closed fist thumped against stone as if he was using his spear Gungnir to make a point. “Thor is my heir--…”

Frigga lifted her chin and interrupted him again. “Yet you say you love them both. If you condemn him when you did not condemn Thor, you will prove him right.”

Odin turned away from her, returning his gaze to the city and finished arguing with a decision already made. “The people need Asgardian justice.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She had been teetering for quite some time, her duty to support her husband conflicting with her instinct to protect her son. But she’d seen something. As with all of her visions of what could be, it was just a vague glimpse. Most of her visions didn’t show the journey, only the destination. It was her intuition that accompanied her ability as a seer that prodded her with words or actions to bring that vision to fruition.

The first showed an image of Thor and Loki, standing side by side in solidarity. They were older than they were now, Asgard gold and gleaming in the background, with the blurred image of wives and children behind them. The second was an image of Thor standing alone, surrounded by an ever encroaching darkness, Asgard in flames. She instinctively knew the second was a future of death. Perhaps Thor would live, but the fact that he stood alone meant that all of them including Loki would die. Something had to change, and her impression was that this was where change had to begin.

“Your will.” At last she found her footing. She didn’t know if it would make any difference to him, but she uttered words she meant. “And when you have decreed his fate, either by axe or by a glowing cell, you decree mine as well.” His head turned slightly towards her, listening, even as he remained silent. “On the day of my son’s death will see the end of my days. But whether I have one day or several thousand remaining, either sentence will see the end of you as husband and myself as wife.” She was his queen and his war bride. Divorce wasn’t a possibility. But she did have rights. Not even he could order her to remain in the same bed with him, nor to continue to offer him a comforting, loving ear.

He turned fully, his face displaying his shock. “Frigga.” They had moved beyond those roles a long time ago. Their marriage had evolved from one of duty into one of love.

Yet she refused to be moved when so much was at stake, murmuring softly, “Always so quick to anger. Once you were so patient with him.”

He replied gruffly, “He was a boy then.” It was much easier to be patient when Loki was young. He was a very shy boy back in those days. Patience was the only choice if any sort of conversation was to occur. Then Odin blinked once and suddenly the Loki of today replaced him. A boy that transformed almost overnight from shy, mischievous, and sassy into a man who was cunning, sharp-tongued, and sullen. Loki was still mischievous, but his pranks were no longer innocent or fun-loving in nature.

She took a step closer and put a light hand on his arm. “Deep down he is still that boy you remember from long ago. He is a man now but he is a young man who needs a rebuking word instead of a rebuking fist.”

Odin crossed his arms over his chest. “He is an impudent whelp, full of clever words.”

Amusement tugged at her lips. “True. He learned the art of persuasion well.” Her eyes sparkled in amusement but it fled quickly with seriousness. “But just as you stop listening in anger, so does he. He learned that from you.”

“I am to blame for this?” he asked, sounding surprised at the criticism.

She didn’t believe that, at least not entirely. It was a perfect storm of events that cumulatively led to this outcome. Loki was not blameless in this outcome; however, Odin had the greatest part to play. “Anger, hurt, fear, insecurity, jealousy. With this lie he has taken all of his emotions and transformed them into rage, just as you did long ago.”

“This is not the same.” He knew exactly what she was talking about. His mother had been Lady Bestla. She was a giantess from Jötunheim, his father’s consort rather than his queen. When Bor’s attentions had moved on she had left Asgard, refusing to be second best. But in doing so she had left Odin behind as a child. Whether it was because of the political impossibility in her raising a male heir of the reigning king on a different realm or because her three sons were unlikely to adapt well to Jötunheim had been left unsaid.

Frigga tilted her head slightly. “Not entirely. When Bestla left you were not allowed to follow, left in the care of an ill prepared father.”

His jaw tightened. “I did not attempt to destroy a realm.”

“No, you were not even old enough for your proving ground at the time.” Then her face shifted to the picture of innocence. “Which realm did you war with first when you came of age?”

Odin narrowed his eye, annoyed that she had to point that out. “How is then similar to now? He has not been abandoned!”

“By Laufey he was, and he had just learned of it.” He opened his mouth but she ignored him. “He also was not prepared for such a blow. You have known all of your life your parentage. Can you imagine your feelings if you had not?” This time he glanced away. That had been entirely his decision, for she had been pleading with him for centuries to tell their son the truth. “Loki always views matters with a negative perspective. He will assume that he was not told because of shame.” He jerked slightly for that reason couldn’t be further from the truth. “We both know how the warriors speak of the Jotnar, in spite of our best efforts. He will embrace their words as a reflection of how we see him.” She noticed his shoulders slump just a little and she pressed him a little more firmly. “Perhaps while the boys are away you should strive for calm. You have yet to speak with Jötunheim. You might consider matters further?”

Still resistant to the idea he slowly shook his head. “The boy has been driven mad. He will destroy everything within reach. There is no hope.” He knew it didn’t all stem from Loki discovering the truth that he was adopted, rescued from a slow death as an infant. He suspected Loki’s fall through the Void was what had broken his son’s mind.

“Have you spoken to him? Are you truly so certain? Is he mad? Or is he angry?” For there was a distinct difference and they both knew it. If Loki were suffering madness, he would be beyond reason. And while Loki balked at authority, in his right mind there were some lines even he hesitated to cross. “Perhaps a conversation between father and son…instead of one between king and prince.”

Odin glanced at her again but he didn’t uncross his arms. She didn’t share what she saw, to avoid making matters worse instead of better, but he knew not to dismiss her advice completely when she was this insistent. She was already confident in his response. Confident enough that with a last few words she took her leave. “Tis very easy to throw something inconvenient away. Laufey did.”

Laufey. The Jötunn king who had abandoned Loki to the elements as an infant because he’d been born too small. The Jötunn were the AEsir’s greatest enemies, and Laufey had been his because the other man was both treacherous and ruthless. Was his wife actually comparing the two of them? Odin could only stare in horror, his arms falling loosely to his sides as he silently watched Frigga walk away.

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I'm writing this like a book so I'm warming everyone up with character development, etc, so that even those that don't live and die for Marvel can keep up. I also want to make certain my original characters are as seamless as those created by Marvel.

A sly Jotunn Queen with some attitude is up next, Odin may get more than he bargained for.


	2. Chapter 2

JÖTUNHEIM

“Queen Faurete.” Odin nodded his head slightly towards her in greeting, a gesture of respect between monarchs.

He’d considered matters. He wasn’t yet calm, but in the meantime, he would at least attempt to regain a peaceful agreement with Jötunheim. He had already decided that their demands and responses would influence Loki’s future. He wouldn’t hand over his son to them. But the price to reestablish peace would determine the severity of Loki’s punishment.

The Queen opposite of him was dressed in full silver armor inlaid with blue fabric. The metal played against the light in the room and gleamed against her cobalt skin. The Medici metal collar stood proud to add distinction to her face, but also brought focus to her cheekbones. Her dark hair was pulled back severely. She was the picture of a fearsome figure, a perfect representation of her people. She was also very young in comparison to himself. From what little he knew of her, she was about the same age as Thor.

“Odin-King.” A soft murmur of rumbles from the other Jötunns present filled the space, Faurete ignoring it. The Jötunns were not happy with anything AEsir at the moment. It had little to do with Laufey being killed. The number of his supporters over the centuries had dwindled. Currently they were offended Asgard hadn’t even bothered to fight them after war had been declared, beyond dismissive destruction.

At the present time transport was extremely difficult for Asgard. The BiFrost, the bridge from which the AEsir traveled from one world to the next, could be repaired. But Thor had done such a thorough job in destroying it, it would take time. The bridge’s destruction had prevented Jötunheim from complete obliteration, so it was a necessary act, even if the result was inconvenient. Odin had asked for an audience with Jötunheim’s current ruler, Queen Faurete. She had taken command of the throne a few months prior, after the confirmed death of Laufey. 

A pane of glass was before her as it was also before Odin, the mirror enchanted so that the two of them could converse. She, several key members of her army, and the remaining Jötunn aristocracy were in an underground throne room, her preferred location for holding court. Odin began with a general statement. “It is good that we can speak to resolve matters between our two realms.”

“Yes, it is.” Her thin lips formed a very familiar smirk. “Twice now Asgard has acted to escalate matters. The question must be asked if you arranged this audience to continue this path to war, to offer an apology, or to offer yet another excuse for one of your sons.”

Odin kept his voice firm and his expression stern. “Prince Loki’s actions were unsanctioned.”

Faurete tilted her head slightly as she mulled over those words. “Mhmm…so he defied your orders and attempted to destroy us?”

“He was granted temporary stewardship but war was never Asgard’s desire.”

Her scowl was instantaneous as she snapped at him, “Firstly, war was agreed upon between yourself and Laufey, initiated by your eldest. Secondly, if your younger son was granted stewardship then it was his choice to act and Asgard would be but a representative of that act.” A sneer followed as she looked him over coldly. “There is no separation because the actions are later found to be… unpopular.”

Odin sounded slightly surprised. “You would defend him?”

She rolled her red eyes and sat back on her throne. She was not about to allow him to foist blame on one person to avoid paying the penalty Asgard owed. “To speak the truth is not a defense, it merely is. I will not allow you to place the blame on a singular person when the one to blame is the species I am speaking to.”

“You are very much like your mother.” Odin almost breathed the words without thinking them through. His blue eye widened ever so slightly at his own blunder, surprised at his lack of control. But there was no denying Faurete was just like Farbauti. For neither woman was afraid to challenge bullshit.

Faurete breezed past the comment as if unaware of the implication. “I am aware.” Her expression turned calculating before she dismissed those around her. “We will speak.” She waited until the doors closed so that it was just the two of them before tilting her head slightly forward. “I know who you really are, uncle.” With the last word her form changed from cerulean to pale as her form shrank. Her eyes shifted from red to green as she assumed an AEsir form, a woman just shy of 6 feet in height. Her long hair remained ebony, but now it was painfully obvious who she resembled. Except for the difference of hair color her face was almost identical to Farbauti’s.

Again Odin was surprised. “She spoke of me?”

Faurete huffed in annoyance. “I doubt Laufey would permit it. But not even he could change the course of recorded history.” There were stories written in the old text of the blood-ties between Asgard and Jötunheim, and she had a passion for reading. She’d even come across a family tree, penned by her mother. Bitterness twisted her lips for a moment. “Nor my magical affinity.” She gestured to her own features. To be able to wield seidr, or magic as it is also known, is a common enough ability between most of the races. But to shapeshift as seamlessly as she was capable, not just to become a two legged being but to change into animals, came from a dual nature. Jötunns capable of such a feat had direct or indirect blood ties to Asgard within four generations. 

Unlike genetics, shapeshifting was a magical affinity and it wasn’t necessary that she descend from an AEsir, just that she was related to them. Faurete’s grandmother was Bestla, just as she was also Odin’s mother. The fact that her mother Farbauti had blood ties to Bor through Odin was enough. But then her expression smoothed. “I was an avid student, for one cannot learn from the past if no memory of it exists.”

“I was surprised of news of your ascension before your brothers.”

Helblindi and Byleistr were her older brothers, with Loki being born after her. There was proud amusement in Faurete’s voice, “Laufey would be horrified if he knew that his youngest acknowledged child, a female at that, is now the ruling power over Jötunheim.” A cold little smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, satisfaction in her eyes. “He always did have more respect for the male gender.”

Odin frowned almost delicately. “Acknowledged?”

Faurete sneered lightly at the thought of her father. “An honorable man he was not. He had four other children outside of the marriage bed. Nor could he acknowledge them, even if he wanted to, or risk a war between the clans for such behavior.”

Odin pulled in a grim breath before he asked quietly, “Was the damage extensive?” The BiFrost with enough time could destroy a planet. Currently he didn’t have the means to discover how severely wounded Jötunheim was.

Faurete mulled over the reports in her mind. “The damage could have been worse. Jötunheim is still intact. Those killed were the remnants loyal to Laufey so in a way what was done benefitted me.” Then her gaze sharpened. “But do not think if you have interest in peace that compensation is not owed.”

Odin internally sighed, already knowing this was coming. “What compensation would be useful to you?”

Her expression shifted back to bland politeness. “I would be willing to restore peace for a condition.”

“You cannot have Loki.” Odin’s denial was instantaneous. Loki was **his** son and he was not about to give him to anyone. At one time he’d intended to raise Loki to rule Jötunheim. A second thought was to raise him as an ambassador between the two realms. But he’d selfishly dismissed such plans over a thousand years ago, unwilling to share his younger son. Or worse, to lose him.

She shrugged casually in return. “I was not going to ask for him.”

He nodded firmly. “Then what is your condition?”

Faurete allowed a small smile to grace her face. “It pleases me that you value him more than our sire did. It would please me more if you taught him to value others.”

He blinked at her, startled. But he knew it wasn’t a guess. She’d known for some time now that Loki came from Jötunheim and specifically from a union of Laufey and Farbauti. “How did you know?”

When Loki had visited Jötunheim, while she hadn’t seen him, his presence had stirred the magic in her veins. “I felt him when he came here to lure Laufey to Jötunheim.” At Odin’s questioning look she waved her hand lightly. “My spies have been watching Laufey for years. When I received the report I put the pieces together. His magic sung to me. The specific tone was so similar to my own he could only be Farbauti’s youngest child, believed dead.”

He sounded as indignant as he looked. “I did not steal him.”

She tilted her head towards him, looking amused that he was so easy to bait. “I am aware. That, too, was recorded and I hated my father from then onward for it. You will find not many mourned his passing.”

Odin frowned and asked, “Then it was recorded that he abandoned Loki?”

She glanced down at her fingernails, contempt in her tone. “It was recorded that my mother, with child, was lost at the conclusion of the war and that no one searched for either of them…I can read between the lines.”

Which unfortunately could mean a lot of things, her interpretation only one of them. Still, based on what he knew of Laufey, he would conclude that as well. “Regarding Loki, you believe these actions stem--…”

She cut him off coldly. “To destroy a man or an army with a weapon is an act of violence against an enemy, typically inspired by anger or hate. To destroy a realm is an act of dismissal.” She leaned in towards him, looking less than pleased. “He does not value us because he does not value himself. His hate is the same. As he hates and fears us, so does he hate and fear himself. I look to the ones who raised him for those issues.”

Odin was surprised that one so young could be so wise. By reputation he knew she ruled with an iron fist, her enemies either dead or silenced once she’d ascended. She and Loki also seemed to have some disturbingly similar traits. He had to wonder if this was the sort of leader Loki could be with enough time. “I will offer a formal honor vow to do my utmost to teach Loki to value the other races.”

“A wergild of goods?” It hadn’t been previously discussed and it didn’t need to be. It was traditional that if the AEsir wished to retract an act, they would offer compensation. Usually it was gold or something equally valuable for the damage done. Since Jötunheim was mostly cut off, goods would be far more useful to them than gold.

He nodded in agreement. “Once the BiFrost has been restored it shall be granted.”

She leaned towards one of the arms of her throne, looking satisfied. “You will offer double.”

A wergild was not an arbitrary word. It was a specific amount. Odin just lifted an eyebrow slightly and asked, “Why would I do so?”

She lifted a challenging eyebrow in return. “His attack was a reflection of your own poor parenting and you will offer double as a penalty.”

He gave her a considering look before he asked softly, “If I do not?”

Humor vanished from her face. “If you wish for peace as an alternative you will vow no punishment will befall Loki of Asgard.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes a moment later, her moods almost mercurial in nature. “Why should he pay the price for your mistake?”

Odin sighed through his nose. It was impossible to argue with Loki when he was in the mood to be difficult. Faurete seemed to have the same disposition. He suspected they both inherited that trait for Farbauti. Nor would he allow Loki to walk away from this without some form of punishment or his son truly would learn nothing…and become impossible to deal with. “Asgard will offer double the traditional wergild.”

“And Loki?” She had a duty to protect the citizens of her realm. No matter where he grew up, both from his birthplace and from his blood-ties she saw him as one of her own no matter what opinion Laufey had about it.

Now Odin stiffened, prepared to argue and fight. “He is not a citizen of Jötunheim.”

“No, but he is my blood and if war must be maintained so that I may have the opportunity to rescue my little brother then so be it.” Odin was tempted to point out that she was hardly in any position to issue threats. She glanced casually at the backs of her nails. “Laufey may not have been aware of the dark passage between Jötunheim and Asgard but I am.”

He gave her a thoughtful look, asking softly, “You would escalate matters for the sake of one man?”

She bared her teeth at him. “I am not Laufey and I care not his size.”

Odin was silent for a heartbeat before he asked, “How would you know he is small for a Jötunn?”

“It was why mother left in the dead of night, to protect him.” Farbauti had left a letter for the servants loyal to her to give to her daughter when she was old enough, explaining why she had left. “Such a ludicrous reason to throw away such a source of power. I know the advantage you have obtained for yourself to have a mage in your midst.” She wasn’t by any means a mage, but she was a sorceress and she had educated herself well.

Odin’s face had turned inscrutable. “It would be foolish to believe that the passage you describe is not guarded.”

Faurete was quick to correct his ignorance. “There are other passages to other realms and the Jӧtnar have never been opposed to less obvious attacks.” She continued before he had a chance to argue the point. “Do not assume I cannot take other forms or that I am bluffing. I could slip among you easily with no one the wiser until it is far too late.” Her eyes glinted in dark amusement. “I attended you eldest’s Coming of Age ceremony. It certainly did not take long for he to become too drunk to form a coherent sentence. Your poor wife, standing there with embarrassed dignity as she was forced to relay her regrets to the attendees.” He blinked in surprise. No Jötunn had been invited. He would have remembered her face…unless she’d changed forms and was therefore telling truth. He also remembered how the celebration had concluded and she was completely accurate. “Peace is truly in **your** best interest.”

Instead of being afraid for himself or his people he found himself intrigued. “You fight?”

“I passed the trials to ascend as Queen. One of the requirements is to kill our opponent.” If there were several persons seeking the right to ascend, they would fight one another for the right to rule. If there was only one person, a seasoned warrior would volunteer to fight to the death for it was a matter of pride and honor that the one that ascended be a warrior of worth.

During her trials she and two other males had stepped forward. The fight was the last, to test skill, resolve, and fortitude. It was also to confirm that no coward would sit on the throne of Jötunheim. Her young cousin, pressured by his family to step forward, had bowed out when it would be obvious he would have to fight her. The other male hadn’t and she’d been the victor. A dark little smile curled her lips, thinking of that win.

“His punishment will be reasonable.” It was a concession that Odin didn’t find difficult to offer. Wasn’t Frigga requesting leniency? For her sake alone he would have considered it. Faurete’s stance was simply providing more reasons to justify it.

“As you and I may have vast differences in the definition of such a word, this punishment will not be death, nor will it disfigure…or last longer than one year.” A cunning little smile appeared on her face. “If your citizens are not satisfied with such then you will return him to us.” For she knew she could spin this situation in such a manner that no Jötunn would hold Loki responsible, since AEsir hatred still burned bright in their blood. Not to mention she knew just from sensing him he was a powerful seiđmađr and she was more than willing to accept such a diamond if the AEsir King was foolish enough to throw him away. 

Odin refused to allow his shoulders to slump but he found himself nodding in agreement. “It is agreed.”

“The Casket?” Odin just looked at her with an unimpressed expression. The Casket of Ancient Winters was much more than just a weapon but it was how Laufey had chosen to use it. After the war Odin had taken it back to Asgard to prevent the Jötunn from using it for further destruction. A penalty of a thousand years for all that they had done against Midgard and the AEsir was hardly sufficient. It was also something that seemed to have been lost during Thor’s fight with Loki on Asgard, but he wasn’t about to mention that. 

Her lips quirked for just a moment as she shrugged. “You understand I had to try.” The loss of it still stung the Jötunn but she, while not a seer, had a feeling that she would regain the Casket for her people in her lifetime.

He nodded slightly, silently.

She sat back once more, her expression coldly regal as she shifted back into her Jötunn form. “Once the requirements have been fulfilled Jötunheim agrees to peace.”

Odin straightened. “It is agreed.”

***

UNKNOWN

In a quiet part of the universe, not on a planet but in the middle of space, a figure sat on nothingness. With a gesture a long piece of golden string hovered in the air in front of a cloaked figure. The string represented time, from the very beginning until the final end. A pulse of power formed a knot a fourth of the way down. The knot in time was formed when the Norns of Fate remained while all the other Norns faded from the living realm. Below the knot, the string formed an infinite circle. This represented what had been done with fate.

Time had formed an endless cycle. It continued from the knot to a certain point known as Ragnarök. Asgard’s destruction was the start, followed swiftly by the other realms. Rather than the entire universe being destroyed, the cycle began again at the conclusion of this event. But the next cycle allowed for chance and change. At the conclusion of Ragnarök all the players went back to their start positions, unaware of what had happened previously. A man born in a privileged family in one cycle might be someone entirely different in the next. Decisions made with different possibilities would cause splinters in the loop, forming the Multiverse. But always a cycle. It had repeated countless times before now and would likely continue to do so to infinity.

The figure held out a hand and a thin golden strand wrapped within the string broke away. Fingers ghosted over the strand, memorizing every bump and groove, absorbing an echo of the person this strand represented.

Unlike for a mortal, it wasn’t a faint connection. In that moment, the essence of this person the strand represented was known and understood by this cloaked figure who was much more than a mortal being. Triumphs and failures. Strengths and weaknesses. Decisions that were made as well as reasons why they were made. There was also an understanding imparted of the lives of others that touched this person’s life.

A wish had been made and this cloaked person was here to ensure it. Time had already been reset. This was the point of history where the second portion required some light as well as some direct manipulation. The figure turned to look towards Asgard. There was much that had to be done, but tonight one AEsir in particular required guidance.

***

ASGARD

General Tyr Hymirson was known in Asgard as the God of War. He was a tall man with a warrior’s build and the armor to match. His golden armor was kept clean and in perfect condition but he didn’t bother to gloss it to a high shine like those in the aristocracy did. His shoulder length hair was a dark blond with silver at the temples, his beard neatly trimmed to frame his sun-kissed face and blue eyes. To the AEsir warriors, he was a legendary figure and one of the men they would follow into battle. He was also responsible for overseeing the training of future warriors, with ranks underneath him seeing that the training was done properly. As Asgard’s General, while he didn’t directly have to worry about politics, he did have many interactions with Asgard’s King.

He was a man of honor. A man of principle.

He was a man who didn’t like what was happening at the moment. He was standing in a meadow, but it was not Asgard and he had no memory of how he had come here. He looked around at the tall, yellowed grasses as they swayed gently in the breeze. In the distance he noted a dark dot so he decided to walk in that direction.

He moved only two feet in that direction and the meadow’s end rushed to meet him. But unlike a normal change in geography there was nothing beyond the meadow. It was not a hole. It was simply the jutted end of the world with nothing but stars and spacial darkness below and beyond it. He pulled in a shocked breath—a dream. This had to be a dream.

“Visitations are not dreams, though I understand your assumption.”

He turned his head, frowning to see a cloaked figure next to him. He opened his mouth to question, but he was shushed.

“Shhh…observe.”

The figure gestured outward and Tyr watched as the stars seemed to glow brighter. With a flash they slowly started to move together. The closer they came together, they almost seemed to form threads. He blinked as the light grew brighter until it was hard to look directly at them. The cloaked figure turned enough to see his reaction before pushed outward at thin air. But the gesture made the stars dim even as they grew smaller.

The smaller they became, the tighter the groupings until they definitely looked like threads. Different colors started to form. Another push, smaller and tighter still, and it started to look…

Tyr’s brow furrowed. “A weaving?”

“Mmm…the tapestry of life. The weave the Norns of Fate create to tell the story of fate from all the children of the Nine Realms.”

The figure made a plucking gesture with two fingers and a single golden thread drifted away from the weave. Another pluck, this time against the thread, and Tyr gasped. He’d felt that gentle touch as if the other had touched his heart. He also noticed that with that pluck an image of himself drifted up. Another gesture and the thread moved back to the weave.

A few moments later another thread came forward, this one a rose color. When it was plucked, Tyr felt tears come to his eyes to see the image of his departed wife. He supposed the thread changed from gold to another color once the owner of that thread died. He started to bow his head, remembering her departure vividly.

“Look.”

One more thread, this one as golden as his. When it was plucked, an image came forward that shocked him. “Loki…” The prince all of Asgard thought had died.

“Until the thread has ended, it will remain golden,” the figure confirmed.

Tyr swallowed. He knew Prince Thor was away on a mission to Midgard, assigned by King Odin. Now he suspected he knew where Prince Loki was. “Why show me this?”

The figure turned and held out a single white rose, which Tyr accepted with a confused frown. “Asgard has long forgotten to obey the will of the Norns. You will receive direction from a seer, your Queen. To obey, you must relay exactly what you are given to say.”

“Seers just see the future…sometimes.” A wellspring of emotions sprang up with those words. He’d stopped believing in seers a long time ago.

There was a dark silence at such words before everything vanished. 

“A seer, no matter what title they are given or choices that they make, is granted such a gift by Yggdrasil.” 

He stumbled on the cobblestones of Asgard, looking around to see everyone frozen midstep as if time was standing still. His eyes widened in horror to see the invading troop from Vanaheim, 1700 years ago. He recognized the man at the head of the group. The man who had killed his wife.

He was pulled back sharply to a different setting and knew that it was a few days prior. He was standing with a group of men just outside of the war room, talking with them about the concerns of an attack as they awaited King Odin’s arrival. In the distance he could see the Queen approaching and felt a stab to his heart.

Then it all faded and he was standing once more in the grassy field. “Do you understand?”

He did. On that day the Queen had gently suggested that Tyr send his wife to Alfheim to retrieve something for her. Tyr had asked someone else on the Queen’s behalf, not comfortable to have his pregnant wife travel to a distant realm without him. But if he had obeyed, his family might have avoided the invading Vanir troop and both his wife and the child she carried might have lived.

Tyr swallowed hard. He’d never been able to forgive himself or the Norns for that. “Who are you?”

“It matters not.”

The AEsir general firmed his jaw. “It matters to me.”

The figure sighed soundlessly. “A being from so long ago I am no longer remembered.”

Confusion and slight suspicion entered Tyr’s voice. “If we no longer remember you then why bother to assist us?

The figure turned, a hint of bronze skin and dark hair seen. “Not all of those that exist beyond the living realm require your remembrance. Your stubbornness led to the undesired outcome. Do not allow such a fixable fault do so again.”

Tyr was still frowning. It still didn’t make sense to him. But he had a feeling he wouldn’t receive a straight answer so there was little point to insist for one. He didn’t have a firm understanding of the mystical, anyway. It wasn’t where his talents lay. “What will my Queen ask of me?”

“The words must be correct to have the desired effect.”

He looked thoughtful. “What effect?”

There was a long pause, as if actions and reactions were being weighed before tying this beginning to a distant conclusion. “To avoid Ragnarok…”

Tyr awoke with a gasp, sitting up sharply and feeling his heart thundering in his chest. He swallowed and took several controlled breaths before he felt himself calm down. He raised a hand to wipe at the sheen of sweat before letting his arm fall to the bed. Then with a frown he glanced to the right to see something. His eyes slowly widened as he picked up and examined the white rose.

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Up Next: Loki returns to Asgard...and he's not happy.


	3. Chapter 3

ASGARD

Loki was mildly worried, for he refused to label the feeling rolling inside of him fear. Not that he allowed such an emotion to show on his pale face but even a carefully schooled expression did nothing for nerves or the ice sliding up his spine…and wasn’t that little turn of phrase ironic?

Usually he was able to ignore such emotions and turn any pending unpleasantness into a game. Even if he were to lose, he made damn sure to make fools of everyone else. This was not one of those occasions. Then again this was more trouble than had ever been laid at his feet before. The center of his worry focused on what would become of him in Asgard, now that he was being dragged there from Midgard. 

Honestly, he had thought he would win since he had only been opposed by a few pitiful mortals. He wasn’t entirely certain why he’d wanted to win since being on Midgard meant he had escaped Thanos’ clutches. But whenever he’d started to focus on answering such questions his confusion had been swept away an instant later. 

Or if he lost, which he had assumed would occur once Thor arrived, that he would die gloriously in battle. Either fate would have been acceptable to him and given him a perverse pleasure at the same time. After all, children in Asgard were an extension of their parents. Just as their accomplishments heightened the standing of the family, the shame that they brought would be a direct reflection of the honor, or lack of honor, those parents held.

Not that any of this had truly been his idea and currently his mind was too scrambled to fully realize it. The Mad Titan Thanos was the architect behind it, using all manner of persuasive techniques. Some had been telepathically direct but others had been more subtle, slowly contorting the trickster’s anger at his family into something vicious and mindlessly destructive. Once Loki had utilized the tesseract to transport himself to Midgard he’d succumbed completely to this villainous impulse to either rule or destroy everything. 

As soon as the green behemoth had finished decorating the floor with him, a shadow of reason had started to creep back in. But Loki wasn’t inclined to tell the truth. No one would believe his innocence so why bother trying? Nor would he break his pride and beg for help. Thanos would kill him for his failure, he knew that with certainty. He would figure out how to get out from under Thanos’ thumb and avoid a death sentence from Odin without anyone’s conditional, grudgingly given assistance.

Yet the rage was still there. All his life he had believed himself to be a son of Odin. To find out after a thousand years that he was in fact neither AEsir nor a son of Odin had devastated him. To learn further that he was in fact a literal monster, a Jötunn runt abandoned by Jötunheim’s beast of a king…needless to say he had not reacted well and all of this that had followed was the result. He personally hoped he’d brought enough shame that Odin would choke on it, revenge for the lie that had destroyed the very foundation of his sense of self.

He knew the traditional fates, depending on the crime. A traitor was given a swift execution. A deserter, either permanent banishment or a sentence in the dungeons. There were set expectations of punishments, but they all had to do with war. He had no idea what happened to those like him amid supposed peace. But then again Asgard was at war with Jötunheim just before his fall. A war he had tried but failed to end with finality. He just wasn’t certain if he fell into the category of traitor or deserter. Perhaps he was both.

No doubt that was how Odin would try to condemn him.

Despite what mortals thought, their stories about Asgard and the AEsir were complete rubbish. Well, the one with Thor in a wedding dress was true enough. But citizen of Asgard would be treated to such torturous punishments. Most of the ones described in Midgardian tales were simply barbaric and the AEsir were above such treatment of their citizens. The worst punishment he’d ever received had been a thorough discussion with Odin’s belt in his youth. It had been completely worth it since that had been his punishment for chopping off Sif’s hair and cursing it black. 

Still, his current actions were not the typical mischief and chaos that he dabbled in. As a guess he would assume he would be stripped of his title and either imprisonment or death awaited him. It wasn’t that he exactly feared death, he was a warrior after all. But he would much prefer it to be death on his own terms, not theirs.

…he would just have to convince Odin that imprisonment was the right choice.

Without his ability to slink into the shadows he was all too aware of the eyes watching him. With his wrists bound and the muzzle over his mouth he wasn’t able to pull together an armor of poisonous disdain. All he could do was feel the weight of those stares.

He didn’t care about the looks and sneers on the mortal faces as Thor had transported his defeated frame from New York to Asgard by Tesseract. Instead he started up a running commentary in his head. ‘ _Thor’s little minions…for he cannot exist without someone to kiss his ass. How is my hair, mortal? Does my cloak clash? I do not understand his preoccupation with them. They are not more than ants. Small, limited creatures full of petty concerns who die so quickly and mean nothing to anyone_.’

The pair of brothers appeared near the edge of the partially destroyed Bi-Frost. They were as different and opposite as one could describe. Tan to pale. Muscle to sinew. Blond hair to ebony. Blue eyes to green. Even their armor showed their contracts, Thor wearing silver and red against Loki’s gold and green. With their interests they were nothing alike, Thor invested heavily in weapons training and fighting while Loki was the seidmadr academic. The only thing the brothers shared was height, with Loki just an inch shorter.

Heimdall, his skin dark and his armor finely polished gold, stood at the jagged edge and had been silently watching the stars with his golden eyes. He paused for a moment to assess the pair of them before returning his gaze to his post. 

‘ _Ah, Heimdall, useless to all but Thor. No doubt you would ignore Odin’s commands as easily as my own should Thor wish it. Perhaps I should ask him if this was love or just blind stupidity. Oh, my prince. I am unworthy of thee. How may I worship you?_ ’

Loki was none too pleased with that particular AEsir. A man who had disobeyed his commands when he legitimately had control of the throne and then tried to attack him as soon as his convenient honor allowed. He did allow a bit of glee to fill him to revisit the destroyed ruin the BiFrost had been reduced to. No doubt Odin had been displeased and he allowed himself to take pleasure from that thought, even if Thor had been the one doing the destroying.

He glanced over at Thor and felt, as he always did, a tidal wave of emotions cascade over him. Thor never inspired just one emotion. But there were so many at present the only one he could identify was anger. ‘ _The Mighty Thor, the idiot, returns triumphant. He has vanquished his enemies without a hair out of place, his red cape billowing majestically in the breeze. Will it be today or tomorrow that Odin organizes a triumph, followed by a feast to celebrate the victory of the favored son he loves so much_?’

Tyr was also there, which startled a polite greeting from Thor. “General Tyr.”

“Prince Thor. Prince Loki.” Loki blinked once, surprised at the greeting since he was obviously a prisoner. A feeling of respect did lightly sweep over him when he looked at the AEsir General. This was a man who had never given him less than his due and had in several instances been an ally he could rely upon. The General paused over the muzzle and restraints, before sending Thor a rebuking look that required little interpretation.

Thor sounded slightly abashed, but defensive at the same time. “Is father in the throne room?”

Loki narrowed his eyes and sighed shortly through his nose. ‘ _Your father, favored son, not mine_.’ He truly wished to verbally deny that Odin was his father. But he couldn’t so impatience flashed in his eyes, wanting to get on with this.

Tyr made a halfway gesture towards the end of the Bifrost. “I know not. He left you a message on the other side of BiFrost.”

“My thanks, General.”

The AEsir General nodded, keeping his peace for a moment. Not for the first time he wondered what any of this had to do with Ragnarok. It was a vague prophecy that few believed in. It spoke of the end of all things, that started with the destruction of Asgard.

Then as he glanced at Loki, about to deliver his message, he had a sudden epiphany. He knew Loki was prone to express with his eyes more than what showed on his face. What he saw caused a shiver of dread. Not anger or madness in those eyes. Rage. A tangible, deadly thing that could end worlds. He couldn’t imagine the why but knew this wasn’t the time or place to ask such questions. Now Tyr understood, although it still left him puzzled as to how such simple words could change Loki’s mind about destroying them all.

“Prince Loki.” Loki paused, turning eyes that weren’t as green as they should be on the older warrior. Eyes that held rage but also a spark of surprise that he was still being addressed by a title he assumed he would lose shortly. Tyr’s face was schooled, his own blue eyes concerned but holding no judgement. “Your mother is worried for you.” 

Loki’s dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, something like shock flashing in his eyes as his mind chewed over each word. ‘ _Why?_ ’ Loki wondered. He was a brainwashed Frost Giant kidnapped from one realm and raised as a puppet prince on this one. But the sentence, so short and precise, left little to interpret. His mother. ‘ _Why would she be worried? Why would she care? For me?’_

It confused him. But in his confusion, his mind flitted from memory to memory of Frigga as he tried to determine deceit from truth. For no matter who birthed him **she** was his mother. Bedtime stories and gentle hugs. Learning his first spells. Patience. Love. Of the woman that had always been…and still was his loving mother. A little more of the normal green tones darkened his eyes as those memories permeated his thoughts.

His message sent, the message Frigga had specifically requested he deliver, Tyr tilted his head towards them as he took a step back. “My princes.”

Thor was frowning heavily in confusion. “Mother sent you all this way for such a message?”

Tyr nodded slowly. “Yes. But she had one for you as well, Prince Thor.”

“Which is?”

“Remember to fight your own battles.” Tyr wasn’t quite sure what to make of those words, but today wasn’t the day he was going to question it.

Thor gave the General a defiant look. “I always do.” 

He walked away and dragged Loki with him who was chuckling. ‘ _Of course you do. Except for politics when you come whining to me about it. Or spats of jealousy with you numerous lovers…and come whining to me about it. Or Odin wishes you to attend council sessions and you go hide in the training yard and expect me to make some excuses for you_.’

Thor didn’t need to hear Loki say a thing to know what he was laughing about. “Shut up, Loki.”

Heimdall watched Tyr with a heavy frown, not waiting quite long enough for the brothers to be out of earshot before he asked, “Why do you call Loki that?”

Thor stiffened and paused, not turning around though he was listening. Tyr just gave the Gatekeeper an amused glance. “Only the king has the power to remove titles. To my knowledge he has not done so. I call him prince because that is what he is.”

A heartbeat later and Thor started walking again, Loki keeping pace as he had no choice. 

Heimdall’s tone was almost chiding to a man who was older than himself. “He does not deserve such acknowledgement.”

Instead of being offended, Tyr seemed quietly amused. “Is it your right to make such judgements?”

Heimdall was the Gatekeeper of the BiFrost, even if it currently wasn’t working. But he was more than just a man with a sword. His golden eyes could pierce through the sky to see the distant realms. To stand as witness for the words and deeds of others. Odin had a long time ago assigned him the duty of watching over the Nine to warn Asgard of potential problems. “I have seen his actions. I know what he has done. He is unworthy to be our prince.”

“Yet he has the ability to hide himself from your sight, does he not?”

Heimdall could watch over everyone…except Loki. For some reason, whether a spell or an ability he was born with, the trickster could hide himself from the Gatekeeper’s sight when he chose to do so. “Aye, so that his misdeeds are hidden.”

Tyr took a step away, looking out at the universe. With his AEsir eyes, his view was similar as it would be for most beings. “It is quite a view. A man could stand here and believe that they are a god over all others.”

“I do not believe myself a god over them. That arrogance belongs to another.”

The AEsir General didn’t look at Heimdall. “You see, Gatekeeper, yet that does not mean you understand. You cannot pick apart motive with your eyes and ears when none are uttered.”

Heimdall looked almost mulish in his conviction. “He vanished from my sight when he would wander to various realms alone. What other reason could there be?”

Tyr knew some of those reasons because on occasion the two of them had talked, particularly when the situation was such a mess that the prince needed a bit of advice from Asgard’s General. A boy being held hostage on Alfheim because of a conflict between two warlords. Poachers hunting down the eight-legged horses of Vanaheim to near extinction. Loki loved creating havoc but he did try not to start wars with the various realms.

“You have not kept your dislike a secret, Heimdall. Perhaps he has merely decided that no matter the reason of his actions he feels no need to justify himself to you.” The General’s mouth formed a knowing smile. “Or he knows that such an ability annoys you and he seeks to vex you.” The latter reason Loki had confirmed to him. With a shrug, Tyr took his leave.

Thor’s brow was furrowed deeply as he walked. Why would Tyr say that? Why would his mother ask that the General say that? It made no sense. He’d never had a problem challenging those that required smiting. To do so would be cowardly and he was not one.

The walk across the rainbow bridge had been in silence and at the other end Loki expected either for there to be horses waiting, or for guards to drag him the back ways to court. It was what Thor expected as well. Instead there was only a messenger and two guards from the Vault. The messenger, a tow-haired youth, handed over a sealed envelope before bowing to them both. The boy peeked at Loki curiously, but was quick to lower his head and hide his eyes. Thor tore open the letter when he realized it had their father’s seal on it, reading the information.

Thor’s brow furrowed as he read the contents. When Loki shifted to look over his arm and read the letter, Thor moved the note so Loki couldn’t see it. His brother narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance since he detested things being kept from him and glanced away to sulk. 

It was a simple choice. To present a grievance before the throne for Loki nearly killing him on Midgard or to not. There was no denying Loki was guilty. But then his mother’s statement appeared in his mind and burrowed into his ear. That he fight his own battles. _Was that what she meant?_

Thor glanced thoughtfully at Loki for just a moment, who slowly raised a single eyebrow since the muzzle over his mouth prevented a snide comment. There was a coldness to Loki’s eyes that Thor wasn’t used to, but the expression he’d seen hundreds of times. When nothing was said Loki rolled his eyes as he shifted, his index finger tapping rhythmically against its twin. 

A rush of familiarity swept over Thor in that moment. He instinctively knew if Loki’s wrists hadn’t been bound he would have crossed his arms to tap that finger against his bicep. His brother was hidden within this angry shell he was unfamiliar with. But the point was his brother was still there.

Hadn’t a second chance been what he’d begged the Norns for during sleepless nights? Did he expect that Loki would return and all would be magically better? Perhaps he had hoped for that but he was not so foolish to be surprised that there would be difficulties before he could finally hope to reestablish the bond they had once shared centuries ago.

Thor was still required to present Loki for his other actions so he choosing not to request a formal grievance wouldn’t protect Loki from Asgardian Justice. The thunderer had to read through the missive twice before exhaling slowly. He wasn’t sure what emotion he was exhaling but he felt a tightness against his chest ease. 

His decision made, Thor took the quill the boy held and wrote a response before returning it. The boy turned and ran back towards the palace. Thor gestured loosely and the two guards stepped forward, holding an ornate chest between them. Thor placed the Tesseract carefully inside before closing the lid. With a bow the guards turned to deliver the artifact to the Vault where all of Asgard’s most dangerous relics and weapons were stored. 

Loki felt a flash of glee that he hid, to realize that no one knew he still carried the Casket of Ancient Winters with him in dimensional storage. It was a magical dimensional pocket that weighed nothing and had no limit of space. He’d created it as a child to effortlessly carry his books with him, but over the years he’d stuffed all manner of things there. As it didn’t require seidr from him to exist it could hold all sorts of things and was tied directly to him. Only he could access it, so there was no way for Odin for prevent him from using it. It could prove quite useful if he were sentenced to the dungeons.

Thor’s blue eyes swept over Asgard before giving Loki a second glance. Thor may not be as intelligent as Loki but the trickster could silently admit the thunderer could be clever at times. Unfortunately he picked the worst times to use that cleverness. This was yet another example as he dragged Loki off the rainbow bridge and escorted him down the main street to the palace gates on foot, the muzzle and shackles still in place. 

‘ _No. NO_!’ Loki glared at Thor as best he could, who just ignored him. He attempted to shake Thor’s grip but he was again ignored. ‘ _You son of a diseased troll! I will infest your rooms with fleas! May termites eat your precious Mjolnir_!’ His dignity was spared nothing and with each step the sudden silence pressed down on him.

It was never silent. The city was normally a bustle of shouts and laughter and activity and life. It wasn’t an oppressive silence either, as if the citizens were about to shake their fists in anger or were about to begin to mock him. Loki could have used that to fuel his dismissal of them. Instead the men and women were quiet and horrified with the children staring up at their shackled prince in mournful confusion. Windows and doors opened as word silently spread, eyes peering from the darkness, the silence asking questions he didn’t want to hear. A little boy’s lower lip trembled. 

Odin decreeing he be whipped to death in the city square would have hurt less.

This walk had an unintended effect, particularly since Thor maintained his silence and no one interacted with him. It provided time. Time for Loki to actually think. Since his mind was always moving and churning all he could consider was the past, the present, and the rather bleak future.

Away from Asgard, he’d focused only on the negative memories. The pain of rejection. The loneliness of being like no one here. The isolation of being a seiđmađr, surrounded by warriors who didn’t understand him and held no interest in learning. The anger and frustration of always falling short. Of never being the prince that he should be.

But being here, walking among the people, he remembered that it hadn’t been like that every waking moment. The commoners in the market had never failed to give him his due. The children would run up to him, begging to see a minor spell and delighted when he always obliged them. Eir, who didn’t interact with anyone beyond cool professionalism, had taken a shine to him. He couldn’t even say that all of the warriors dismissed him. 

General Tyr had been not unlike an honorary uncle to him. A man who would not be happy to learn what he had done, even if a rebuking word never left his lips. With Tyr it wasn’t the words. There was just a certain look of disappointment in his eyes that Loki had always striven to avoid.

Almost halfway to the palace was the first time since Loki had brought death and destruction down on mortals that his head tilted down, his eyes staring intently at the cobblestones under their feet. No one touched him, save Thor, now with a light hold to his bicep to make sure he kept pace but everyone else gave both princes a wide berth.

Thor had been watching Loki intently while trying to appear that he wasn’t. As much as they seemed to have grown apart over the centuries he did know one fact about his brother. Loki was not a needlessly cruel man. He still didn’t understand why Loki would attack the humans with desires to rule but since the beginning he’d suspected much more had been going on. It was one of several reasons he’d refused to allow the humans to punish his brother. 

Leaving Loki to Midgardian justice would do nothing. It might appease his mortal friends a little, but it wouldn’t help Loki to find regret. Parading him through court would be equally pointless. Loki had never cared what the nobility thought of him, nor had they kept quiet their opinions of him. As a consequence, Loki often intentionally brought out the worst in them. 

But these were the people Loki cared about. The people who had been kind to his brother. This was where Loki would find shame.

Instinctively Loki found himself drifting closer and closer to Thor, wanting to hide in his shadow once more. Thor wouldn’t let him and Loki found it distressing in a way he never had before. On adventures and in strange lands Thor was always insistent that Loki stay to the back. But then on Asgard Thor had always insisted that they walk side by side, as equals. As brothers.

Loki winced, feeling slightly sick to his stomach.

Just before they crossed the threshold from cobblestone to the more majestic stones of the palace floors, Thor paused. There was another page with an open message from their father instead of a sealed one. The older man read through it and nodded in understanding. The page left as Thor turned and carefully removed the muzzle over Loki’s mouth before tucking it away. 

Loki’s head was raised high once more but he didn’t even try to meet the thunderer’s gaze as he moved his stiff jaw before he said, “An interesting choice.”

Thor ignored him. Loki was surprised when the shackles were removed from his wrists as well. That was a stupid decision of Thor’s. Loki could use magic to escape if he so chose. Yet he didn’t make that choice, mostly because Asgard was where he wanted to be even if he’d much prefer not to be in this situation. Thor was still watching Loki carefully, taking in the minutest of queues to gauge if his trickster of a brother was plotting. He was surprised to realize that didn’t seem to be the case.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he was gently turned and again led by a light hand on his bicep. The guards stayed at attention, opening the entrance doors as they approached. They said not a word but Loki felt their gaze as well and he did everything he could not to flinch, putting on a false smile.

He was surprised when Thor deviated from the corridor that led to the throne room. He couldn’t stop himself from cringing with a soft hiss when he realized where he was being taken. This corridor led to both Odin’s formal study as well as his private one. There was a distinction between the two. The formal study belonged to the king. The private one belonged to their father. 

He could perform the role of martyred dictator to the court with Odin sitting impassively upon his throne…he’d never be able to maintain that distant disdain if it was just himself and the All-father in a less formal setting. This was going to ruin everything. Shaking his head rapidly and digging in his heels a bit, “Thor--…”

Thor’s grip tightened, just a little, but he didn’t stop walking, forcing Loki to keep up. “Brother I will drag you there if I must, but father has wish to speak with you, and speak you shall.”

Embracing the distraction and baring his teeth. “I would like to see you try.”

Thor paused, his gaze hardening. “Your choice is on your own two feet or over my shoulder.”

Loki thought to retort that he could just teleport to get away from them both…but he didn’t. Mostly because that would just be idiotic of him to advertise one of the few advantages he had. “You are a horrible liar.”

Thor nodded once in agreement. “Aye, I am. Do I lie?”

He silently conceded that Thor had won this particular battle of wills. Being carried over Thor’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes was one humiliation he wished to avoid. Trying to sound patronizing and not quite able to pull it off. “Am I to see Odin or King Odin?”

Smug satisfaction sparked in Thor’s eyes as he lightly, for him, patted Loki’s shoulder. “A good choice.” The trickster ground his teeth a little, agitated, as the thunderer silently seemed to come to a decision before he responded to Loki’s question carefully, “Our father.” Which Loki took to mean the informal study.

Then Thor started walking again as if he hadn’t stopped, Loki keeping pace to avoid getting led there like an errant puppy on a leash. Not that Loki wasn’t instantly ready to retort, “ **Your** father, son of Odin.”

Thor shook his head with a sigh, irritated that Loki insisted on this argument every time father was mentioned. He understood that Loki was angry. The entire universe understood that at this point. But he also considered it childish that Loki was so insistent with everyone else instead of wishing to confront the one he was angry with. “He raised us both, therefore, he is **our** father.”

Loki snarled. “I know the way.”

At that the elder man grinned. “Aye, and I am ensuring you do not become lost, brother.”

The retort that they weren’t brothers flashed through Loki’s mind. The sneer that Odin wasn’t his real father swiftly followed. But he was in no hurry to claim any Jötunn as family. He swallowed both, just to keep from throwing up, as the private study doors suddenly loomed before them. “As if he will hear me…” Loki trailed off to silence as he stared at the doors.

Both were surprised to find the corridor empty, although Thor suspected it was at their father’s command that guards weren’t posted on either side of the doors. He didn’t doubt they were near and would reappear instantly if they were needed. Thor turned and reached out with his left arm, his fingers gently grasping the back of Loki’s neck. It was a familiar gesture of reassurance and support. One repeated over a thousand times during the course of their lives. The trickster didn’t snarl or fight, he just stood there.

Loki swallowed before he pasted on a smile that was little more than slightly bared teeth on his face. He childishly wished he wasn’t here. That he was still in his rooms, blissfully unaware of the truth. He’d always hated the truth and now it was going to be beaten into him. He’d rather assume Odin was going to disown and imprison him than experience it. He’d rather imagine the pain and disappointment in Odin’s eye than see it. 

His stomach started doing cartwheels and Loki knew the only way to make it stop was to alleviate some of his guilt, even if it was both a sentiment and a weakness that he despised. Voice soft, staring rather intently at the ornate doors, “I suppose you feel I should commit a foolishly sentimental act and apologize.”

Thor turned his head to stare at Loki incredulously. “You do not? Loki, you killed me. Were it not for father’s enchantment I would be dead.”

Loki made a scoffing sound. “As if one of my throwing knives could end your life.” An act that had occurred during the Chitauri invasion. Both of Thor’s eyebrows raised, still staring at him. Loki felt that stare and immediately switched gears to when Thor fell out of the Helicarrier. “You were in possession of Mjolnir as you fell from their air ship, your life was not at risk.”

Thor’s voice deepened, irritation only one of many emotions conveyed. “That is not of what I speak.”

“I--…” He jerked to stare at Thor but stopped the denial about to escape. Thor’s eyes were a strange mixture of anger and sadness. Loki’s gaze turned inward for just a moment, his brow furrowing. He reflected on that day, when he’d sent the Destroyer to Midgard. There could be no argument that Thanos or the Tesseract had any effect, as this was an event well before he’d encountered either.

At the time he’d been drowning from all of the emotions that had been rolling through him, knowing that he was nothing more than a Jötunn runt foundling. A pawn. A tool, political and magical, that would be wielded when convenient. Anger had been the sharpest, both at everyone else as well as himself. All those that had lied to him, and at himself for never once questioning it. It had been an explosion of emotions to the point that he had thought he would literally go mad if he didn’t express it. Then Thor had said something monumentally stupid about his _imagined slights_ and he’d just reacted. He remembered something else that Thor had said a long time ago, and he repeated those words now. “Sometimes…there is no recourse but to hit something.”

Thor blinked slowly before he nodded slightly, amusement in his voice. “I am familiar with that feeling. Every time you trick me I feel it.”

Loki sighed softly. He was not one to forgive but he knew at the time he’d left Thor no choice. “Although your retaliation of throwing me from the BiFrost evens matters.”

“Loki.” Thor had been about to chide Loki for what was obviously a lie but then he paused. Loki had said something similar on Midgard but he’d ignored it at the time. He regarded Loki a little more carefully before he asked softly, “Do you not hear yourself?” Loki raised a single eyebrow but said nothing. Thor leaned in closer so that they would not be overheard, for talk of something as shameful as suicide was not discussed openly. “You let go.”

Surprise flickered across Loki’s face, unchecked and unhidden. ‘ _Why would I do that_?’ It wasn’t what he remembered. But since Thor couldn’t lie with any success it made him reevaluate everything. For if that wasn’t what happened, then he wondered what else in his memories was distorted. Then something came to him, an echo of words with too many emotions attached to them.

_No, Loki._

It was an honest enough reaction that Thor noticed it. “You do not remember this, do you?” His brow started to furrow. ‘ _Why would Loki not remember that_?’ It made him start to suspect…

Loki forced the corner of his mouth to twitch upward, breezing past the question. “You feel I overreacted.” 

Thor chose not to say anything at first beyond letting his expression speak for him. The Destroyer was only one of several grievances between them. Lies were another. Not that Loki wasn’t known for them, but there were some lines he had never before crossed.

Lies during Thor’s exile that their mother had no wish to speak with him. Lies that Odin had died. Lies for no other purpose than to invoke in the thunderer as much grief to equal what the trickster was feeling at the time. 

Loki had never deliberately used them as an emotional blow against Thor…until after the thunderer’s failed coronation. “Did you not?” asked Thor.

“As if **you** have never overreacted.” Loki was stalling and he knew it. He never should have opened his mouth. He should stop speaking. “Speak to the one responsible for that reaction.”

Thor nodded firmly. “I am.”

Pointing at the doors to try desperately to push the blame on Odin. “His lies began it--...”

He was cut off by Thor. “And your lies, against me, ended it.”

Loki retorted in frustration for what he perceived to be someone else’s responsibility, “I am not always to blame--…”

Thor gripped either side of Loki’s face, forcing their eyes to lock. “You chose to go to Midgard during my exile. You held control over the Destroyer. I do not argue that you had and still have a right to be angry. But you had no right to be angry regarding father’s lies **with me**.” Then he shoved his brother back a step, lest he give into the temptation to give Loki a good shake and possibly hurt him.

The pair of them silently stared hard at one another for several seconds. Loki glanced away first and debated with himself. The most effective course in ensuring Odin couldn’t use Thor or Frigga against him would be to convince everyone he cared for neither of them. But the danger was that his mother and his brother would believe this lie and abandon him. If he were standing in chains before the throne that was exactly what he would do. But he wasn’t. Which left him pondering the possibility that he didn’t have to push them away to protect himself.

But to apologize? Such a laughable concept. Why was he always the one forced to break his pride to appease others? He pushed that question away a moment later. Even he knew in this scenario who was the wronged party and who was just wrong.

He didn’t want to admit it, but for once he didn’t try to convince himself otherwise. He was also too tired. He hadn’t slept or eaten since the BiFrost destruction. He wasn’t in any danger of expiring as his seidr would keep his body functioning indefinitely if needed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling ragged. He fidgeted subtly and licked his lips before gritting his teeth. The word burned his tongue as he whispered but he didn’t stop it, even if he refused to look at Thor. “Sorry.”

It was so hard to tell when Loki was telling the truth because he was devastatingly good at lying. But Thor knew what to look for in this situation. A quiet tone for anything that stung his brother’s pride to say. An informal, short response to convey exactly what needed to be said instead of the formal manner they had been taught. Most importantly, Loki wasn’t looking him in the eyes.

Thor blinked in startled wonder. He was quite certain it was the first time he’d ever heard an un-coerced apology escape from his brother that he actually meant. It was a monumental moment that he felt sadly certain his friends would take for granted. Something that had been tense inside of him and growing resigned that he’d lost his little brother forever eased. “Is this why you attacked the humans?”

Loki opened his mouth, but then he was quick to close it again. He might wish to answer, but he knew Thor was incapable of keeping a secret and certainly would not keep it from Odin. He considered his words carefully before he stated firmly, “I do not wish to speak of that.”

“Father will ask.” Thor said it as a warning because it was true. Loki grimaced. After a pause Thor reached and gave Loki’s neck a firm squeeze, deciding if Loki was willing to apologize, he didn’t need to hear the reason right now and they had kept father waiting long enough. “Forgiven, brother.”

Loki didn’t want to accept it, only for it to be a lie later. The remaining blue color that had lingered in his eyes from Thanos’ influence as well as the Infinity Gems faded, leaving behind emerald. For the first time Loki’s gaze truly met Thor’s, unable not to ask, “I truly am to you?” In a biological sense they weren’t brothers. Thor was the king and queen’s golden child, the favored son. Loki was the strange witch-boy from a conquered race found and raised by them, no doubt kept until he could prove useful to Asgard.

Something feral and grievously hurt was still prowling in his green eyes, but it had been tentatively tamed back. Thor saw many things in those emerald eyes. Anger, pain, sadness, and the smallest beginnings of regret. Loki was blinking perhaps a little more rapidly than normal but his eyes were free of tears. Thor suspected that might change and gave the back of his neck another supportive squeeze, “Of course. Always. I will be here after you speak with father.”

Mumbling softly, “To escort me to the dungeons, no doubt.” Loki pulled in a slow breath and stood straight as he pasted back on a wide trickster smile, determined to hear his sentencing with dignity. He reasoned Thor was owed that apology since he wasn’t involved in the orchestration of this grand lie but Odin was owed nothing. Thor gave Loki an encouraging look as he stepped away. Those green eyes glanced at him again, unsure, before nodding slowly and opening the study door.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

Up Next: a conversation between father and son long overdue


End file.
